Room 9: An Interlude
by SadArticle
Summary: Does exactly what it says on the tin: a moment's reflection on the future for Sarah at the Tiki Motel. My first Terminator fan fiction!


Room 9: Interlude

_**A/N: **__Inspired by Sarah Kouryou's character piece, 'Upon the Lips of Dying Men' , this is a reply from Sarah Connor's POV. I have found some really poignant scenes and stories in _TheTerminator_ fan fiction here, and although I have nothing new to add, I couldn't resist *the* scene at the Tiki Motel! _

Every line, every curve.

I know the colour of his eyes, and that they have seen worse things that I could imagine. I can guess how he got that scar under his lip, and the lines and puckered flesh on his back and arms. He has shown me the numbers seared into the pale skin of his arm, a painful symbol of a brutal regime in another time. Lying here, in the grey, artificial light of our refuge, I can even tell that his hair is lighter, softer, when it's clean. His kiss, his taste, lingers on my lips. My body knows and aches for the touch of his, now, and every scar, every muscle, tells me more about the man within.

He isn't asleep, but he rests beside me, at ease because I am safe. _We _are safe. For now. His face is turned towards mine and beyond, keeping the door and window of our room in his line of vision. He is always on the alert, that much I do know about him. The slightest noise from outside – a car's engine, or the warning bark of a dog – and Reese would be ready to fight. He's a soldier, and that's what they do.

What do I know about this man, apart from his strength and his bravery? I know I can trust him with my life. He came across time to protect me, and said he would die for John Connor, my unborn son. How can I raise a child who will see the world destroyed, and survive among the ashes? I'm falling headlong into a future that is already set.

Well, I can't think about that now, but I know that Kyle Reese is the only reason I'm still here. What else do I need to know about him? The usual questions – what he does for a living, if has he any brothers or sisters, what car he drives – don't really apply in his case. Maybe one day I'll find out more about him, if we live long enough, but right now he's all I need. All I have left.

And I know that he loves me, painfully, secretly, completely. It's always been that way. The urgency in his voice when he called my name in the police station; his surprise when I tended his wounds in the underpass, and that tender look of recognition when he told me that my son has my eyes. I didn't need him to tell me, the truth was there to see for myself. He said that he memorised my photo. Was he waiting for me? I'll never make sense of the science, though I'm not a fool, but his urgency tonight was like a promise fulfilled. He has known me longer than I've known him.

He told me about his life, from being born in the ruins of war and fighting the machines, to offering himself, naked and vulnerable, for a dangerous mission through time. For my sake, on behalf of my son. It sounds incredible, but I know he's telling the truth. There is nothing for him to gain by lying to me, and everything for me to lose. Whether I believe him or not, that machine is still out there, hunting me. I've seen for myself that cyborgs feel no pain, and cannot be stopped. Everyone I care about or who tried to help me got caught in the crossfire. Now there's only Kyle to save me from being 'terminated'. Nobody else knows how, and even if he can't stop that machine, my life is his.

All that he knows of me is the legend behind a photograph: Sarah Connor, who fought for her son so that he could fight for others. Mother, leader, inspiration; I am not that woman yet. What he seeks in me, now, is what draws me to him. I feel like such a fraud for not knowing how to be the woman he fell in love with.

"You should rest while you can." His eyes are open, filled with that dark intensity I already recognise. Checking, searching, never still.

"Same goes for you." I lift my head from the pillow, wanting him to look at me. "I knew you were awake."

His lips slide into something like a smile. I want to see what he looks like when he laughs. "This is my watch." I can feel the bandage on his hand when he strokes my back, and remember how hard I bit into his hand last night, trying to escape. "We should make a start soon, anyway."

I'm tired, and I don't want to think about what we have to do. The guns, the bombs on the table. How long and how far can we run from a killing machine? "Where to?"

"Just keep going." His hand finds mine, fingers locking together.

"What does it take to destroy one of these things?"

"More than it takes to escape." He levers himself up on one elbow, still gripping my hand. "We have no choice."

I don't want him to move. My eyes trace the silhouette of his neck and shoulders in the shadows. Breathing deeply, I try to drink in the earthy scent of his skin, and press against him under the sheets. This might be the last time.

"Is it worth it? I mean, what's the point?"

"Sarah, don't give up!" He pulls his hand free to brush my hair back, seeking my face. "John learned to fight from _you_. Our resistance against the machines starts here."

The wisdom in his young voice, and the need in his touch, is enough to keep me going. The women in his time are fighters, he told me. That's all he knows. Kyle has seen the world in ruins, witnessed the end of life again and again, but he isn't beaten yet. I haven't grown up dreading capture or worse, but the same fate darkens my future world. We are divided by time, but share the same fear. It doesn't matter how the future is written, I am willing to fight for him, and for my son.

Kyle Reese has shown me how to survive.


End file.
